When my second brother ( I have 5) was about 2 or 3, he would repeatedly vocalize any action he was doing. You’d tell him to go hide for hide and go seek, and he’d put a couch cushion over his face and say “Hide, hide, hide, hide.” Not all the time, just often enough to make it a memory.

One day my dad took the first two boys with him to an estate sale to get some tools. He found a box of stuff, but didn’t want to carry it around while he looked, so he told Coloray and Trustin to guard the box for him so that no one else would take it. As soon as he left, Trustin hovered protectively over the tools and started saying “Guard, guard, guard…” so that everyone would know he was guarding the tools. Apparently Coloray got embarrassed and told him to stop. At which point, a man walked up and took the box of tools.

memories are important to write down; someday you will most likely forget them.

Once, Coloray and I had a conversation in which we both agreed that everyone goes through an ugly phase. For most people it is shortly after their adult teeth come in and they’re all gangly, big-toothed, and not old enough to be selfconcious enough to make sure they look ok. We were probably 13 and 11 when we had this conversation and we concluded that we were so relieved to have our “ugly years” behind us, but when I look back at our pictures from this age, we look every bit as awkward as we did in our “ugly phase.”

When my sister Angel was a little girl, she was convinced it was her destiny to be ballerina. I told her that every little girl feels this way, and that she’d grow out of it when she was as “mature” as me. She was very mad at me and pointed her tiny toes insistently as if their cuteness was proof of her destiny. She eventually grew out of it, which is good, because she’s way too short to be a ballerina.

Anyway, this post goes out to Trustin who will be 22 in a few short days. One more Trustin story.

When we lived in eastern washington, we had no running water or electricity. Plus, we lived “off the land” between farm animals and a huge garden. Needless to say, Jello was no everyday occurrence. Once for a special treat my parents got some jello from the store (or maybe someone gave it to us, I don’t remember which). Since we had no electricity and therefore no fridge, we decided to chill the Jello in a plastic milk carton. It was lime, I only remember because I was kind of cheated out of it, but I’m jumping ahead of myself. My mom and I poured the jello mix and water into the plastic jug. When it was done setting by chilling in the spring, we would cut the top half off the carton to serve it. I headed down the hill and tied the jug by the handle to a stick so it wouldn’t float away.

Four hours later, in eager anticipation Coloray and I headed down to the spring to get dessert. Too bad Trustin had been there first and had eaten it ALL when it was still soft enough to shake out the top opening. We didn’t think it was funny.


I love gullible people.

Today I walked to Safeway with a friend of mine who shall remain nameless due to her highly gullible nature.

We both bought bags of grapes, and she started eating hers as soon as we left the store.

“Don’t eat your grapes, they’re covered in pesticides!”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to wait till we get home–I’ll just rub them off.” She shrugged and began rubbing the grapes between her fingers and her shirt.

“You do know that doesn’t actually get the germs, off, right?”

“Yes it does, if you rub them the heat from the friction kills the germs.”

“Where on earth did you hear that?” I asked.

“This doctor told me and Holly that,” she retorted.

“What kind of a doctor, a quack doctor?”

“No, he’s not a quack doctor, he’s a real doctor, like a doctor doctor.”

Apparently, this doctor told my friend and her friend, that rubbing your hands together real fast kills germs. Aside from the obvious fact that rubbing hands together doesn’t address obvious areas like fingernails and skin creases…heat from friction? Really? He actually told them that this is why you see surgeons rubbing their hands together in movies before they put their gloves on.


So much for that…

Ok, so I know I said I was going to post a real blog today, but the internet got the better of me. Today’s blog goes out to

This, this, and this, are all shining examples of human ingenuity. Also, shining examples of people you may not want contributing to the gene pool.

In Baby News, I was at Gap today and Violet was growling at strangers. She did walk on the 4th, but being the sharp little cracker she is, she has now pretended to forget her earlier achievement so that we can still carry her everywhere.

Anyway, today’s blog is really about pet peeves. Specifically, drive through banking and how it affects the person behind you. I hate waiting as much as the next person, but I do find it perfectly acceptable to wait in line behind someone while they fill out their deposit slip instead of having it on them and filled out before they got to the window. My sister and I were talking about people that have made us mad lately, and we discovered that both of us have recently been chewed out by women old enough to be our mom and should therefore know better; because we were taking too long in the drive through lane. In my case, the lady rolled down her window (she was in the opposite lane) and proceeded to inform me of proper drive-though etiquette.My sister’s case was funnier though, because once she was done with her transaction and driving through the parking lot, the lady behind her had gotten out of line, and walked over to yell at her for taking “3-5 minutes for the transaction instead of the normal 1-2.” We agreed that we’re not mad at them anymore; menopause probably sucks.

Which brings me to this:


“If music be the food of love, play on.” –Shakespeare

I got this in one of those wall sticker things to go on my kitchen wall. I was going to use stencils and pick my own phrase, but…I got scared. I do really like this quote though.

Wow, i totally have nothing to talk about.

Violet is doing belly flops in the bathtub right now. AJ is supervising her and narrating to me while I sit here drumming my fingers on the keyboard. On my right, (your right) my bed sits unmade. AJ took the sheets off to wash them and they never got replaced. I hate making beds…always have. I blame it on having to share a bed with my sister for many years growing up. In fact, I never even had my own room till I was 19 or so. Not that I’m complaining; sharing a bedroom with a sibling is a great way to teach so many important life lessons.

Lesson #1: When on the bottom bunk, never sleep up against the wall, because that will inevitably be the time your sister gets sick and pukes…down the wall.


3 Things

1. My sister-in-law is labor right now. So far Violet only has boy cousins, so we are hoping for a girl. C’mon Megan, think pink!

2. I–and by association, Violet–had the greatest sugar/caffeine high ever today. I got a white chocolate mocha at starbucks, and I felt so amazing afterwards that I seriously wonder what drugs they slipped me. I drank it at 5:30, and by the time AJ got home at six, both Violet and I were literally bouncing off the walls in euphoric caffeinated delight. Since we felt so incredible, we took an amazing walk  and played at the totally awesome park next to our house. AJ was bemused.

3. Today Violet and I went to Target with my sister Angel. Naturally, Angel and I went into the toy section to play with baby dolls and see what Violet thought of them. Prepare to be creeped out; baby dolls aren’t what they used to be. Check this out. (Seriously, just click on the link so you’ll know what I’m talking about). If toy manufacturers ever want a good gauge on whether or not they’ve gone too far, they should ask a real baby. Violet would have nothing to do with them. (There’s tons of different types, and we played with them all). She kept a pretty sharp eye on them, but would not touch them or even crack a smile–just very seriously surveyed the shelves of creepy cooing babies.  Makes me want to get some; one goes in the bathroom, another in front of the stairs, still another in the pantry. They could be marketed as “Mommy’s Creepy Little Helper.”